The Animal Whisperer
by CrimsonAngel22
Summary: Erren Isabel Mackenzie owned a large farm, which housed many exotic animals, outside of Gotham. Her perfect haven is soon disrupted when a certain criminal decides he needs somewhere to stay for a while..No Joker/OC
1. Secret Havens Farm

**(Hola ladies and gents (: I present to you, my story, The Animal Whisperer! Please don't eat me if I butcher this story and make it living HECK for you. I try my hardest. Plus it's my story! I can write if badly if I please. **

**Anyways, please leave me reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman and other DC Comic characters, unfortunately.)**

Many eyes, both large and small stared at me through various metal fences. The glowing orbs were all trained on me, with such intent that nothing could break their focus. The farm often became eerily quiet at this time; the beginning of feeding time. Not one creature stirred, as though even a small movement would send me sprinting for the farmhouse for dear life. Of course, I'd never run away from them. They were my children, my consoling companions away from the hustle and bustle of the ever-busy city. I wasn't quite sure of their feelings towards me, though aggression was rarely shown towards my person. I liked to think that they loved me, accepted me as one of their own. I felt close to them, many of them had been with me since birth and the others since childhood.

I reached my hand into the bucket, my fingers connecting with a slick, oddly cool surface. I think many people would recoil at the contact of something that seemed as vile as this, but I merely dug my hand down deeper. With my free hand, I quietly unlatched the first gate I came across. I walked inside noisily, drawing attention to my arrival, so not to take anyone by surprise. Surprise usually meant defense on their part. I called to them, my voice a soft coo, like a mother speaking to her baby. They came to my calls, as usual, excited and quivering at the promise of the meat I had pulled out of the bucket. They were smaller than me, for the most part. They were actually the smallest residents on the farm: Ocelots. Their slim frames let them move with ease as they stared up at me. Their eyes were the colors of the moon, light and mysterious. I rarely ever saw these cats aside from feeding time. It was my time to admire the lithe forms of these over-sized house-cats. They had pelts of golden tan and white, the black rosettes and spots contrasting easily. I threw the meat down and thus began the feeding frenzy. They hissed and spit at one another, clawing for the first bite. The bigger of the cats came out on top, stealing the biggest pieces and eating until full. I took this opportunity to run my hands over the soft fur on their backs. Some shied away from my touch, retreating to the shadows and the long grass. Others pushed up against my hand, arching their backs, much like house-cats. A soft smile touched my lips and I stood up again.

I repeated this process over and over with each resident. Lynxes, bobcats, coyotes, leopards, panthers, jaguars, cheetahs, wolves, lions, tigers, and bears. I wasn't as touchy and relaxed around the larger animals for obvious reasons. None of them had ever hurt me in any aggressive form before, but I was not going to take chances. All the animals were still wild at heart, no matter how much they seemed domesticated. It was much easier feeing the herbivores of the farm. Some were skittish and apprehensive, but never were they aggressive towards me. It came as a surprise, the vast number of residents that lived here on my farm. I owned a great expanse of land, a result of having parents with much money. Still, I made my own money, only borrowing from them in times of great need. I loved every single animal on my farm, from the deer to the grizzly bears. Each animal held a story to be told; Stories of abuse and neglect, stories of abduction and cruelty. I took every one in, my heart full of love and care. It took a great amount of time for those to warm up to me, since their experiences with humans had been less than pleasant. I was as stubborn as they were, visiting every day until their trust was gained.

My farm was located outside of a large city. The city was called Gotham and it had one of the highest crime rates in the United States. The citizens never felt safe, even in their homes, since crimes happened almost anywhere. I didn't hold much fear for my life. Fear creates an illusion and clouds your judgment. I never felt fear when I entered my animals' enclosures and my calm aura radiated to them. Fear and anxiety is contagious. The animal enclosures were large; giving the animals room to roam free. I tried my best to imitate their natural habitats to some extent. I was never cruel or neglectful towards them either.

My farm was a huge responsibility; the animals needed constant care. I rarely ever went into the city. It wasn't worth the risk anyways. But I did at times, to visit with friends who lived amongst the stone and concrete. I had few friends, whom I was very close to. Amelia Turner was my friend since grade school. She had been with me through all the ups and downs of my life. She was practically my sister and she was the one who visited me here at the farm often. She was my gossiper; she brought in news and told me what was happening in Gotham.

"People refer to you as The Animal Whisperer when you are brought up," She told me once. I had only smiled; the name seemed to fit somehow.

I hated choosing favorites between my animals. They all had an equal amount of my life. Whenever one passed away, I lost a part of myself. Despite that, I found that there was one whom I always felt close to. It was a very large and intimidating male lion. His name was Aslan, named after my favorite lion character in _The Chronicles of Narnia_ by C.S. Lewis. Aslan was very unique; his fur was a luscious snow white color, instead of the usual tan. His eyes were a heart-stopping sapphire blue, as deep as the ocean. As frightening and brutish he appeared to be, Aslan was a docile cat. He never fought for dominance or anything. Despite the dangers, I would lie down with Aslan, stroking his think mane and giving him kisses. He never seemed to mind, as he would nuzzle and groom me, like a mate or pride member. He came to the farm as a cub. He had been orphaned when a poacher had killed his mother and taken off with him. He was beaten and kept in a cage, until he was rescued. I had hand-raised him until he was old enough to go out with the others. Our unbreakable bond was eminent.

I thought my life was perfect; everything seemed to be going the way I liked. Nothing could get to me and I wanted it to stay that way. Everything seemed to change the day an unfamiliar visitor showed up on my front porch.

**(A/N: Well! There you have it folks! The first chapter of The Animal Whisperer. It may be a bit short, but oh well. I really hope to continue, so please, PLEASE review!)**


	2. Unwanted Visitor

It was a cool day, one where the air was crisp and nippy, yet still warm enough to go without a jacket. The animals were coming out less and less, because of the cooler weather. Most of them were suited better for warm climates. They all had their own caves or cave-like environments to hide in. They were heated- a hefty cost for me- but it was worth it. I woke that morning with an anxious and jumpy feeling, which I assumed was only due to the weather change. I went about my daily preparations: eating breakfast, getting dressed, thawing meat from the freezer and feeding my African Grey parrot, Loki. The meat thawing usually took an hour or so, so I flipped on my television. Often, I would check the news to see the latest crime scandals that went on in Gotham City. The cape-crusader Batman managed to capture a notorious villain, The Scarecrow, a few days prior and he was now locked tight in Arkham Asylum. I admired Batman, but not like most people. I admired his courage to stand up against criminals instead of cowering back like most civilians. The bat suit and "themed" façade seemed a bit vivacious and flashy for my taste, but to each his own.

There was nothing particularly eye-catching on the news that morning, so I decided to give Amelia a buzz on the telephone. She answered on the second ring, as I expected, because she barely ever went anywhere without her cell phone. She claims that it is her "connection to all things civilized". Amelia was a true city girl, through and through. Anything that is remotely wild and/or not in the latest magazines disinterests her. How we became friends- me being obsessed with all things animal and her being obsessed with all things designer- is still a mystery to me.

"The Joker has been relatively quiet lately," She informed me immediately, "He only blew up one building this week."

The Joker was Gotham's latest loony, who ran around dressed up like some circus clown on crack. He was apparently the most dangerous criminal that Gotham had so far. He was a skilled opponent, even for Batman, and had managed to avoid him for one whole month. He didn't impress me with his childish antics and obvious vies for attention.

"Maybe he died," I murmured sarcastically, "Or perhaps he grew a heart and realized all of his bad deeds."

"Yeah, right," I could hear Amelia snort on the other line. She never was the most lady-like of females.

"I still don't see why everyone is wrapped around this guy," I sighed, half in annoyance, half in boredom, "Yes, he is dangerous, but other than that, he seems too obvious to be interesting."

"Says the girl who is absolutely fascinated by watching animals kill each other over food and lick their own private parts," Amelia shot back and I could practically imagine her rolling her eyes.

"At least animals are real and don't hide behind costumes and fake identities," I countered, quite happily.

All of a sudden, there was a rapid knocking at my door, in the rhythm of some cheesy tune. Sighing, I informed Amelia that someone was beckoning me and sat the phone down. My door has no peephole, since one was never needed, so I opened the door brazenly to face whoever was knocking. Immediately, I could tell it was a man because of the build, the clothes and the stance. He stood, sort of hunched over, in an odd stance. I couldn't quite see his face at first; his body was positioned half turned away from me. He wore a suit which I assumed was black, until I looked closer. It actually was a deep purple color, like plum. It looked rather expensive, too, like it was custom made. A hat was perched on his head, tipped down over his eyes.

"Can I…help you?" I asked after taking in his appearance. He didn't answer me straightaway, but only stood on my front step. Irked, I tried again, "Sir?"

A bark of harsh laughter escaped his throat, "No one has called me sir in…ever."

His voice was distinctly nasally, easy for someone to remember. It was apparent that he was odd; he didn't even state his reasons for being on my property.

"Yes, well, good for you," I said sarcastically. Manners were never my strong suit, since my human interaction was limited and animals didn't expect good manners.

He giggled then, yes, giggled. Anger flared in my veins, burning viciously. I went to slam the door shut, without saying anymore, but his hand shot out and gripped the door. I couldn't make it budge in his iron grip, so I growled in frustration.

"Is there something I can help you with? If not, then I have things that I need to attend to," I snarled harshly.

"Is there-ah, any way that you are renting out room_s_?" He asked.

I stared at him. Was this guy for real? My house was a farmhouse and in no way looked like a motel. The sheer absurdity of that situation made me laugh.

"Does this house look like a motel?" I gestured around, my face twisting into a sneer.

"I dunno, I've never been to one," I could see a grin stretch beneath his hat.

"It's _not_," I stressed, rolling my eyes, "So get off my property before I make you."

"Oooooh," He laughed suddenly, throwing his head back. His hat flew off and fluttered to the ground. I was left staring at his face, painted ghostly white with greasepaint. Black kohl circled his eyes, which were as dark as the makeup that outlined them. Ruby red paint was smeared onto his lips, popping against the white makeup. They accented two long scars that stretched from his lips to his cheek, pulling his face into an eternal smile. His greasy, green tinted hair fell stiffly around his head like some sort of sick halo. I may not have lived in Gotham, but I knew that face.

"What do _you_ want?" The fact that my voice came out cold and not fearful, surprised even me. It must've caught the Joker off guard as well, because he didn't respond at first.

"That's not very nice," He chastised me, a frown creasing his features.

"I never said I was a nice person," I glared, "Actually, I'm not a nice person at all. I don't really like other people."

"Oh yes, I know-ah," He grinned again, "You're the, uh, _Animal_ Whisperer. But it doesn't matter if you're nice, I like mean people."

With that, the Joker shoved me into my house abruptly, the door locking swiftly behind him.

**(Okay, here's chapter two of The Animal Whisperer! Sorry it's rather short and I kind of left it at a cliffhanger type situation, but oh well. Review!)**


	3. Fighting Back

**(I do not own the Joker; only Erren.)**

I kept my footing despite how hard he shoved me backwards. The Joker stood, towering over me. He was taller than I expected, but scrawny. I had dealt with animals bigger than him. Hell, Aslan was much, much more muscular than him.

"What's your problem, buddy?" I demanded, not intimidated in the least.

If there was one thing I learned when dealing with animals, it was not to show fear. Animals react to fear. They can sense it on another creature. Fear shows a weakness, which gives the animal and advantage. That was my big mistake when I first became an animal caretaker. When feeding the hyenas for the first time, I was nervous and jumpy. Aleeka, the matriarch, immediately used my fear against me. I still have the scar on my leg as a constant reminder. Actually, scars litter my body in various places. Working with animals is a guarantee of scars.

Black eyes stared down at me, probably trying to find my weak spot. Animals often did the same, but I kept the same steely faced look that I perfected over the years. When he didn't answer me, I scowled.

"You can go to hell," I muttered.

The obnoxious laugh rang through my head once again. I swear it was like raking nails down a chalk board.

"Wow, you-uh, really _are_ a feisty one!" he shook his head in amusement, walking passed me and further into my house.

It is kind of embarrassing to admit, but being around animals twenty four seven had given me animalistic tendencies. As the fucked up clown walked around, a sense of unease entered me. He was invading _my_ territory and I had the urge to defend it with my whole being. So I was territorial, so what?

"I prefer the term defensive," I muttered; feisty was an annoying word.

His shoulders bobbed up and down in a shrug. He skipped over to my bookshelf, leaning in to examine my belongings. I watched him warily. The kitchen was only a few feet away. Inside, there was an assortment of different knives. Anyone of them would do and would give me a chance to defend myself. And I really would've liked the chance to run a knife through his gut myself. Call me sadistic, I don't care.

"Is this-uh, you?" He asked suddenly, pointing to a picture frame.

It was the picture of me, snuggled up and comfy with Aslan. I had gotten Amelia to take that picture for me, despite her complaints. I loved the picture because Aslan looked like a huge teddy bear, but he also wore a slightly protective look. I was like a lioness in his pride that he would protect until dead. It was a very comforting feeling, actually.

"Yes," I answered harshly, not offering anymore explanation.

"You're-uh, with a lion," He stated.

"No shit Sherlock," I hissed, rolling my brown eyes.

I saw his shoulders tense. He didn't move after that, just stood there like a statue. Unease shot up my spine. Finally, he turned to face me. His dark eyes had an evil, slightly demonic look to them.

"There's no nee_d_ for those words-uh."

I barely had time to move before he was across the room and on top of me. His gloved hand had a crushing grip in my windpipe and I was backed into the wall. The sharp edge of a table pressed into my back, on my spine. I growled at my shitty luck. Trust me to make him angry. Not that I really regretted it. I stared up at him, my face a careful poker face. I never let others know how I was feeling and I wasn't going to start now.

"Attacking a defenseless woman?" I rasped out, "Seems rather pathetic to me."

"I don't think you're-uh, defenseless," He hummed quietly, his eyes scanning me; "You loo_k _like a gal who can take care of herself."

Damn. He was right, of course. I wasn't the damsel in distress type.

"Wha_t_ is your name-uh, Doll face?" He continued.

"Erren." I managed to choke out. His hands were slowly constricting my windpipe and breathing was getting difficult.

I knew he would keep squeezing until I begged him to stop. Fat chance. Ignoring the pain in my side, I kicked my leg out. I smirked when it made contact with his shin and he grunted. His hands loosened for a millisecond, but that was all I needed. Bringing my arm upwards, I brought it down across his. He didn't try to fight back, so I smashed my elbow back into his face. It connected, probably with his nose and he stumbled back. I scampered away from the wall and bolted into the kitchen.

Grabbing the nearest sharp object, a meat cleaver to my luck, I spun around. He was already in the kitchen after me. Blood trickled from his nose. But instead of being in pain, he was laughing.

"My, my! I am lucky. I like a gal who fights bac_k_," he grinned.

"Then consider yourself the luckiest man in Gotham," I spat.

"I do, I do!" He replied gleefully.

We spent the next few minutes in a staring match. We were testing one another, seeing who would make the first move. He wanted me to attack him first. It would give him the split second advantage, because he knew I would miss. But I didn't move. Even if I was a fighter, I was a careful fighter.

"You aren't really gonna use that, are ya?" He tilted his chin towards my meat cleaver.

"I dunno," I shrugged thoughtfully, "Am I gonna need to?"

"'Course no_t_,"

Obviously, I didn't believe a word the clown said. Merely sighing, I shrugged as if to say 'Oh well.'

By the way he watched me, he still expected me to act. But he wasn't being aggressive, so I wasn't going to instigate a fight. I avoided most conflicts just because I liked keeping myself intact. I grudgingly admit to being a small person. And small people tend to break easily, at least, in my opinion.

"So are we just gonna stand here, watching each other?" I asked, slightly on the bitchy side.

"Well, I don'_t_ know-uh about you, but I don't mind the view," he commented, breaking into an obnoxious fit of giggles.

I made a face to emphasize my disgust. I'd say that this man was an animal, but that would be insulting to Aslan and all the animals on my farm.

"My view could be a lot better," I answered.

"How so? Maybe I can make those improvements-uh," he leered at me, his dark eyes a bit unnerving.

"Gross." I stated bluntly.

But by the way he was talking, I knew he wasn't serious. The Joker wasn't the type of person to take a pleasurable liking to others. It wasn't up his alley.

The Joker laughed again and I clenched my teeth. I could tell this was going to be a_ long_ week.

**(And that's it for this chapter! I wasn't exactly sure where to stop this chapter, so I decided this was a good place. Review!)**


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